


The Lost Carnival

by GrumpierThanYou



Series: The Lost Carnival Saga [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Carnival, Cults, Demons, Hell, Horror, Human Sacrifice, Multi, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6320314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpierThanYou/pseuds/GrumpierThanYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crazy young man gets involved in a cult, witness human sacrifice, kills himself, meets his Guardian Demons, goes to hell and is assigned to work at The Lost Carnival. He soon finds being dead isn't half bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lost Carnival

Bile built in my throat as I saw the sacrifice, a young girl; her entrails slopping from her yawning torso, gore drying in rivers on her soft skin. Her gruesome blood-kissed lips curved into a smile, lifeless and glassy eyes glowering into the starry heavens she could no longer witness. I felt vile, unable to move as I caught her emotionless stare, bolting in place. Watching and waiting for the shame, the remorse to wash over the others. But smiles stayed plastered on their lips, as they admired our handiwork, still holding the blood stained knives. I wanted to go home, to wash her blood from my hands, to wash this night away. I desperately needed to start anew. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t killed her, I had been there, and I hadn’t even tried to stop them. Instead I had laughed, had jumped and danced and bellowed our chants along with the rest; high and longing to fit in. This was the cost, and it was disgusting. I was disgusting. I could feel my depravities washing over me, I stared fearfully at the lifeless girl, expecting her sprout wings and plunge down on me, clawing and rending and cleaving me apart, screaming curses and eating my flesh. Of course none of that happened, all that happened was me puking all over the back of the boy standing in front of me. He didn’t even notice, too caught up in chanting. I had to get away, my skin felt tight, I was sweating, my eyes bugged from my skull.   
I don’t know how I ended up back home, lying in bed, wearing the same grimy clothes, dirt under my nails. Filth under my skin. The dead girl lay next to me, maggots ravaging her naked body, a snake slithering from her vagina, it stared at me with beady eyes, tongue flicking out to taste the air, to taste my sins. Judging me, knowing what I had done. I screamed, scrambling out of bed, the taste of debauchery in my gullet. I needed to be clean. I staggered from my bed, reminding myself that the girl wasn’t really in my bed, she was still strung up on the planks of wood in the forest, with her never ending smile and those dead, dead eyes.   
The shower seared, and melted my skin off. Until I was nothing but a gooey pile of blood and gore-bits. I jacked myself off roughly, blood and cum mixing with the water as it went down the drain. I bashed my brains in, killed myself over and over, screamed and ripped my flesh off, cut into my tendons, ate myself till I was nothing but bone.  
I was cutting my stomach open when they came to me. Two demons. I thought it was just me being crazy again, but they touched me, ripped my abdominal open, and played with my insides. I could tasted the fear as I realized I really was dying. I begged them not to let me die, that this isn’t really what I wanted.   
The taller one laughed, “No one wants to die. But they all must.” He wrapped his arms around me and rocked me back and forth as I screamed and trashed, begging and bargaining.   
The smaller one held my hand and whispered that I was needed down below. Of all the things in my fucked up world, most of them fake and made up by my diseased mind, why did this have to real? My death, my Guardian Devils, the dead girl smiling at me. My death was slow and agonizing, blood and gore dripping from me, like it dripped from the smiling dead girl, reaching to cup my face and kiss my blood-stained lips, her dead eyes suddenly filled with life as she stole mine.   
Death, my friends, is not the end. It is instead, the beginning. Life is only the prologue, the opening scene, the first five minutes of Family Guy that hardly has anything to do with the rest of the episode.   
I wish I could explain the acute pain that dying entails, the horror, the dread. But you, yes you, will experience it all soon enough. You too will be visited by your own demons, you will be escorted to hell, because that’s where we all go, us sick and demented souls. But we don’t go to hell to be tormented, instead we go to work for, The Lost Carnival. It’s our lot in life; sorry, our lot in death. But me, I want out, now that my mind is clear, I want out of this. I don’t want to return to the world of the living, not at all, instead I want to be free from the bonds of the Carnival. There must be more to death, then this sickening monotony. I intend to find more to death, to find meaning if you will. I was batshit insane in life, but in death, I can finally find who I really am.


End file.
